


never thought you'd make me perspire, never thought i'd do you the same

by fragilelittleteacup



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Denial, Don't Like Don't Read, First Kiss, Gay Bar, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Power Dynamics, Protective Older Brothers, Sexual Tension, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 15:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14751672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: This was by far the dumbest thing that Michael had ever done for this brother.





	never thought you'd make me perspire, never thought i'd do you the same

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from My Sweet Prince by _Placebo_. This fic is a gift for my pals who are a tad dismayed to learn about the harassment that occurred on the Arrested Development set... Doesn't mean we can't enjoy our fave fictional characters ♡ This isn't Beta-read, so please forgive any mistakes! I might write a dirty dirty second chapter if I get time in the future~ ;) But for now it's just a little drabble.

This was by far the dumbest thing that Michael had ever done for this brother.

The bar was shrouded in cavernous darkness, neon lights breaking apart the shadows to illuminate a moving, undulating crowd of flesh and leather. The music was deafening and full of heavy breathing, probably Nine Inch Nails if Michael had to take a guess. There were burly men with full beards, boys with big eyes and whip-thin bodies, and all kinds of blokes who looked like they worked in offices every other day of the week. This wasn’t just a gay club, it was a fetish club, and it was only now that Michael truly realised how _completely serious_ Gob had been when he suggested they pose as boyfriends. He stuck to the frays of the crowd, the edge of the dancefloor, hands clenched by his sides in sweaty anxiety. He was jostled and bumped by the gathered men, suffocated by it all, feeling smaller and more insignificant than he ever had before.

Michael Bluth valued being in control.

Lightheaded, dazed by flashing strobe lights, and irritated by somebody’s elbow digging into his stomach, he pushed at the bodies around him and attempted to gain some distance. He found his back against a wall, head inclined upwards, gasping for want of air.

“Jesus,” he breathed, unable to hear his own voice.

He had no idea whether Gob had arrived yet, and had no way of distinguishing him from the rest of the crowd. He stared at the men who passed– dressed in assortments of leather and metal and denim– and wondered about his older brother. He thought about the eagerness he’d seen in those angular, hazel eyes as Gob laid out this plan in surprising detail, and tried not to theorise about whether Gob regularly visited these kinds of places in his free time.

Michael considered the dancers stationed throughout the room on elevated platforms. He looked guiltily at their athletic bodies as they spun around shimmering poles, hips grinding in slow circles, solid thighs gripping metal as they arched and swayed, the very picture of eroticism. It was too easy to imagine Gob up there on one of those stages. Too easy to picture the sharp lines of his hips, the curve of his back and waist, the solid roundness of his bare arms, the way glitter would look as it peppered his smooth skin…

Fuck.

Michael was stunned he’d never thought twice about it before. Yeah, he’d known that Gob had worked with the Hot Cops as a stripper, but he’d never _thought about it_ before. And maybe it’d been denial, maybe it’d been the trembling fear of feelings he could never admit aloud, but now he was _realising_ what kind of a man his older brother was, and the intensity of that wasn’t something he had prepared for. He should have. Christ, he should have, but he was here now, and there was no way to banish those images from his mind.

He needed to get out.

Turning towards where he vaguely assumed the exit was, he tried to make his way out, pushing through the wave of human beings that blocked his way. He was stopped almost immediately by a man wearing an open leather vest, tight leather pants, and not much else. He had dark eyes, a heavily drugged smile, and his hand was against Michael’s chest.

“Hey now,” he yelled over the music, throat straining with the effort, “Where you goin’, baby?”

Michael jerked away from him, his back colliding with the wall again. He laughed nervously, hands held up in an expression of _please leave me alone,_ feeling like a deer in the headlights, about to be steamrolled by experiences he hadn’t signed up for. The man sidled closer, seemingly unconcerned that Michael didn’t reciprocate his intentions, and Michael had nowhere to go, nowhere to run. Genuinely at a loss as to what to do, panic started to set in, and he began to draw his shoulder back in preparation for what would probably be an ineffective and laughable punch.

Just as he was about to make one last pitch for personal space, a hand landed squarely on the stranger’s shoulder. He was yanked away from Michael, almost knocked off his feet by the action, left staring in dumbfounded shock at the man who had interrupted him.

It was Gob.

He didn’t even speak, didn’t fuck around with words. He just stared the guy down, taking a resolute step towards Michael, reaching down and smoothly taking Michael’s hand. The message seemed to be received, because Michael’s would-be aggressor shrugged in an attempt to appear unbothered by the whole exchange, leaving to join other men on the dancefloor. Michael sighed shakily, closing his eyes momentarily as he was overcome by relief. He realised, after a long moment, that Gob’s fingers were still linked through his, and all the sordid fantasies of before came rushing back to him in a flash. He remembered what they had come here to do.

A mouth brushed against his cheek, Gob leaning down to speak to him. Michael opened his eyes, breaths hastening, the warmth of his sprinting heartbeat not purely attributable to anxiety anymore. He gazed unseeing over Gob’s shoulder as Gob leaned into his space.

“You okay?”

Michael nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Gob leaned away from him, face illuminated passingly by flashing lights, vivid colours glancing off his leather jacket. For a moment Michael wondered if his face had always been this angular and alluring, but fuck, he hardly had to _wonder._

“You’re still holding my hand,” he eventually said to Gob, the unsteadiness of his voice lost to the music. They were standing close enough that Gob could hear him, and in response he offered a tilted smirk.

“Tony's about to walk in, on our left," Gob explained, voice deep and rumbling as always, "He’ll see us.”

Michael exhaled hard, nodding like he had any kind of a grip on what was going on. That’s right. They were posing as boyfriends. Michael prayed that this club was dark enough that nobody could identify them as being brothers, because _christ_ their family had enough rumours of incestuous relations surrounding them as it was.

He focussed on trying to appear calm. Gob looked back at him with a surprising amount of concern, almost tenderness, and his eyes softened with the expression. He might have been about to ask whether Michael was sure, or perhaps was about to say something else, but either way Michael never got the chance to find out. There was a roaring cheer, and it only took a moment to realise the source of the crowd’s enthusiasm; Tony Wonder had just walked in. He was flanked by two scantily-clad bodyguards, which would have been amusing if they weren’t so threateningly huge.

But Michael quickly forgot about Tony Wonder.

Gob slid his hand onto the curve of Michael’s neck, firmly tilting his head upward. He closed the distance between them quicker than Michael could process, their lips meeting in a kiss more heavy and deliberate than Michael had experienced for a long time. Gob gripped his hand as if he was trying to be reassuring, trying to say _do this for me,_ and Michael melted against the wall. The world was heat and noise, everything except the touch of Gob’s mouth and body fading into insignificance. He knew he should be disgusted, knew he should resist, but Gob slanted his body forward in a slow press, grinding firmly against him, and he couldn’t bring himself to resist.

Gob licked into his mouth, tongue silky and clever, and Michael groaned. He fumbled for Gob’s waist with his spare hand, trying to keep up. Gob, obviously encouraged, moved closer. He braced one arm on the wall behind Michael’s head, neck arched down into the kiss like this was _effortless_ for him, and Michael wished it was just the two of them. He wished they were somewhere quiet, somewhere he could hear the wet sounds of their mouths, but instead they were here. In a loud, unforgiving place, denied the privacy that this moment deserved. He clutched at leather, pushing his hips off the wall, begging without for words for Gob to keep touching him. His body rolled mindlessly to the pace that Gob was setting.

The moment built to a boiling crescendo, and then Gob abruptly pulled away, breaking their kiss like he'd just realised  _what they were doing._ He gasped, mouth open wide, and they stayed there for a while. Just trying to breathe, holding each other tight. It was only when Gob leaned back enough to meet his eyes that Michael realised they’d both reached a mutual conclusion. He’d thought it was just him. He’d thought he was broken, perverted, but _no,_ Gob wanted him too. Michael felt flushed red from his hairline to his collarbone, his skin hot, and when Gob made to walk away he held him still, fingers digging into the small of Gob’s back.

Gob hadn't expected that. His eyes widened, and Michael realised that this was as frightening a revelation for him too. He'd expected that they could pretend for a night, they could play boyfriends and not face consequences. Well. That just wasn't realistic.

Michael pulled him down again. They kissed softly this time, an innocent little thing that made Michael quake in ways he couldn't properly describe. A chasteness that didn't belong here. A moment just for them.

A hush of breath, hot and helpless, puffed against Michael's lips as Gob gasped, the gravity of this moment taking hold of him. Michael felt a swell of power, a drive of certainty. He'd always been the one to reassure Gob, to help him understand a world that was so often cruel and unforgiving towards him. And he would help Gob understand this. They would find their way through this together.

"Brother," Gob began, almost begging.

"Shh," Michael insisted gently, "I got you."

 

 


End file.
